


Walk This Winding Road

by sara_wolfe



Category: Bedlam's Bard - Mercedes Lackey, SERRAted Edge - Mercedes Lackey et al.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/sara_wolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They may have moved on, but they won't be apart for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is one of those ideas that has been gnawing at me for years, and I'm finally putting it down on paper. This is a slash story; that means love and romance between two men. If you have problems with that, the back button is at the top of the screen. Flames will not be tolerated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Do not own; not mine. Under ML's Creative Commons disclaimer.434

**Prologue**

 _Karal frowned as he thought about what Florian had told him.  
_

 _"What of Vanyel, and Stefan, and Yfandes?" he asked, remembering how the spirits had given everything they had to protect the living._

 _Florian smiled. "They've made decisions about their destinations, and they didn't have a lot of time to make sure they were properly placed, so they've already gone on. I can't tell you what they've decided, but it's going to be fine."  
_

 _"In fact," he added, as his smile grew brighter. "It's going to be glorious."_

Limbo, Vanyel realized, looked a lot like the grove in Companion's Field. His and 'Lendel's tree was even there, when he distinctly remembered it being destroyed by his lover's mage-fit after his brother's death.

Across the grove, he could see Stefan and 'Fandes, the former no longer shifting between appearances, like he'd tended to do after his death. Noticing his scrutiny, Stefan came over to him, reaching out and taking his hand.

"Are you ready?" Stefan asked, nodding at the Portal that was at the entrance to the grove.

Vanyel gave his life partner a wry look. "After being confined to the Forest of Sorrows for a few hundred years, I should hope I'm ready to move on."

"I meant," Stefan elaborated, with an affectionate sigh, "are you ready for what might happen? What we're going into, we might not find each other, again."

"We will," Vanyel told him, emphatically. "We will be together in the next life. All of us," he added, when Yfandes nudged his shoulder, impatiently.

Stefan nodded, and they stood in silence for a long time, facing the Portal that would take them to their next destination.

"I'm afraid," he admitted, finally. "I'm afraid of what's on the other side, and I'm afraid of you not being there. I guess I've gotten used to you always being by my side."

"I love you," Vanyel told him, reassuringly, "and I will find you if I have to tear the world asunder to do it."

"Such a romantic," Stefan teased him. "And here I thought I was the one who had a way with words."

"You never know," Vanyel retorted. "Maybe in this next life, I'll be a bard, and you a mage."

"That would be nice," Stefan said. At Vanyel's curious look, he added, "You don't sing enough. You have a nice voice."

"There never seemed to be much to sing about," Vanyel said.

"Maybe this time there will be," Stefan replied.

Then, he kissed Vanyel before touching their foreheads together.

"I love you," he murmured. "I don't want to leave you."

"It's not forever," Vanyel assured him. "We will find each other again."

Stefan nodded, wordlessly, and, draping their joined hands over Yfandes' back, the trio strode determinedly into the light leading them to the next life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

 _He was standing in the middle of a forest clearing, surrounded by trees. He thought that he was alone, with only the sound of distant birds keeping him company, but as he turned in a slow circle, he caught sight of a shadowed figure standing in the trees._

 _"Hello?" he called out, cautiously, moving toward the other person. "Who are you?"  
_

 _There was no reply, and as he got closer, the person – a boy, he realized, catching a glimpse of the other's face – turned and started running through the forest, away from him._

 _"Wait!" he shouted, running after the young man. "Come back, please!"  
_

 _But the runner never stopped, and he chased after the other boy, following the flashes of sunlight that streamed down through the cover of the trees._

 _"Come back!" he shouted, again, and from ahead of him, he could hear the ghostly echo of bright laughter.  
_

 _"Wait," he panted out, as he finally came to a stop in the middle of the forest, too tired to keep running. "Please wait."_

 _He didn't know why he was begging; why it was so important for the other boy to come back. He just knew he couldn't lose him. Not again.  
_

 _"I'm still here," the ghostly voice whispered, suddenly, sounding like he was right behind his shoulder. "You just have to know where to look."_

 _"Where?" he demanded, angrily. "I don't know where to find you."  
_

 _"Just look," the voice whispered, and then he really was alone in the forest._

In his bedroom in Boston, Massachusetts, Eric Banyon was awakened by the sound of his own, harsh breathing. His eyes felt heavy as he blinked in the darkness, and when he felt wetness on his cheeks, he realized that he'd been crying in his sleep.

He knew that he'd been dreaming, but he couldn't remember details. Just the overwhelming sense of having lost something. Something vitally important, something he couldn't afford to lose.

Trying to put the dream out of his mind, Eric lay back down and closed his eyes. But his whirling thoughts refused to slow down, and sleep eluded him for the rest of the night.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Eric! Are you ready yet?"

Eric groaned at the sound of his mother's voice as she yelled up the stairs. She already sounded upset with him, which was never a good way to start the morning off.

"Almost!" he called down, pulling on a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Well, hurry up!" Fiona yelled back, irritation plain in her voice. "We don't have all day, and if you're not down here in ten minutes, we're leaving without you."

From anyone else, it might have been an empty threat, but he knew that his parents wouldn't hesitate to let him find his own way to the airport if they thought he was going to make them late.

 _'Sometimes,'_ he thought, angrily, as he shoved the clothes piled on the end of his bed into his suitcase, _'I wonder why they even bothered to have a kid.'_

The last of his packing finished, he grabbed his flute case from where it was sitting on the edge of his desk. He'd never hear the end of it if he left the instrument at home, where it wouldn't be played for three months.

He hurried down the stairs, dragging his suitcase behind him, and found his parents waiting for him in the foyer.

"It's about time," Michael snapped, looking down as his watch as Eric came down the stairs. "What took you so long?"

"I overslept," Eric offered, by way of an apology, earning him an exasperated look from both his parents.

"Don't know why we bothered to spend money on an alarm clock in the first place," Fiona huffed, and Eric cringed, slightly, at the censure in her voice.

"I'm sorry," he said, but she just shook her head.

Eric clambered into the back seat of the car, surrounded by his parents' baggage. Not a word was said as Michael started the car, immediately flipping the radio over to the traffic report. Resigning himself to a long drive, Eric took his flute out of the case and assembled it, running his fingers over the keys as he silently ran himself through the drills his tutor has assigned him.

The drive to the airport had been tense, uncomfortable, and unbearably long. By the time they reached JFK International, Eric was more than ready to get away from his parents – even if it meant spending the summer with a complete stranger. He grabbed his flute case from the seat beside him, before the overly-solicitous, and most likely well-tipped, valets could stick it with the rest of the baggage. Then, he hurried after his parents.

They'd already disappeared inside the building by the time he'd reached the entrance, swallowed up by the crowds of people. Muttering a few choice words that would have certainly gotten his mouth washed out with soap if his mother was there to hear him, Eric hugged his flute case to his chest and darted into the crowd, looking for them.

"Mom?" he called out, loudly, hoping that she could hear him over the noise of the rest of the airport. "Mom, where are you?"

He kept calling out for his parents as she shouldered his way through the crowd. He figured that, even if they didn't hear him, he'd at least attract the attention of an airport official or security guard who didn't want an unattended kid wandering around the airport.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, he'd gotten someone to notice him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a boy with dark hair popped up right underneath his nose.

"You lost?" the boy asked, curiously, as Eric tried to get his racing heart to slow down.

"I'm not lost," Eric explained. "I just can't find my parents."

Then, as he got a good look at the boy standing in front of him, he forgot everything that he was going to say. An image popped into his mind of a face half hidden in shadows, accompanied by the sound of bright laughter. The only thing he could think was _'There you are.'_

That startled him enough that he had to take a second, closer look at the boy, who returned his scrutiny with a quizzical look.

"Something wrong?" he asked, and Eric shook his head in confusion.

"Have we met?" he asked, trying to figure out why he felt like he knew the other boy.

The boy shook his head, a worried frown on his face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," Eric said, hastily. "I just need to find my parents."

"Tyler!" a voice called out, suddenly, and the other boy looked over as a woman with shoulder-length, light brown hair came over to them. "Who's this?" she asked, looking down at Eric, who gave her a quick, shy smile.

"He's lost, Ma," Tyler piped up, and Eric suddenly felt like a stray puppy that had followed the other boy home.

"I'm not lost," he muttered, blushing with embarrassment when the woman looked at him. "I just can't find my parents."

"What gate were they headed for, sweetheart?" she asked, gently.

"Gate fifteen," Eric told her. "The twelve-fifteen to Paris."

"That's this way," the woman said, and with a hand on his shoulder, she steered him in the direction of his parents' gate.

They moved very quickly through the airport, the woman keeping up a quick patter of conversation as they walked. She had the same, brisk efficiency that Eric was used to with his own mother, but there was also a warmth, a cheerful good humor that he never saw from either of his parents.

They reached gate fifteen very quickly, and Eric broke into a run when he saw that his parents were about to board their plane.

"Mom!" he called out, waving his hand in the air to get their attention. "Dad! Wait up!"

Seeing him, the flight attendant stopped his father with a hand on his arm. Michael turned around, an irritated scowl crossing his face when he saw Eric running toward them. Fiona, mindful of the people watching them, was better at controlling her own expression, but Eric could tell that she was annoyed at being delayed.

"What is it, Eric?" she snapped, before he could say anything. "Don't tell me you couldn't find your gate."

"I-" Eric started, and then he faltered, his earlier good idea not looking like such a good idea, any longer. "I wanted to say good-bye to you and Dad," he finished, weakly, under his mother's impatient gaze.

She huffed out an irritated sigh, but since they were still being watched, she wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders, giving him a quick, nearly-impartial hug. Eric returned the embrace, careful not to wrinkle her clothes. She'd never let him hear the end of it if she looked at all in disarray.

Fiona pulled away after a few seconds, admonishing him with "Behave!" before she and Michael disappeared down the skywalk. Eric watched them leave, feeling oddly relieved at the thought of not having to deal with his parents for three months. 

"You're not going with them?" a voice spoke up from behind him, and he turned to see Tyler and his mother watching him.

"No, ma'am," he replied, quietly. "I'm going to Ireland for the summer. I'm sorry I dragged you all over the airport," he added, quickly, when she still looked at him, sympathetically.

"That's all right," she said, cheerfully. "So, where's your plane leaving from?"

"Gate two," Eric told her. "But, it doesn't leave for another couple of hours."

A frown crossed the woman's face at his words, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, and she smiled at him.

"Then, how'd you like to have lunch with Tyler and me?" she asked.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "I'd like that."

"None of that ma'am stuff," she said, gently chiding. "I'm not that old, yet. Call me Sheila."

"Yes, ma'am – Sheila," he corrected himself, catching his slip-up. "And, I'm Eric."

"Pleasure to meet you, Eric," Sheila said, shaking the hand he held out. "Do you like hamburgers?"


End file.
